We had two beautiful children — Ethan and Lily. Our home was warm, full of laughter, school projects on the fridge, and Sunday pancake mornings. I told myself this was the life I had earned. The life I deserved.
My daughter turned twenty-one this year.
I hadn’t seen her since the day she was born.
Last week, she found me.
I was having lunch at a quiet café near the hospital when I noticed the waitress staring at me. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. Dark hair pulled into a ponytail. Nervous hands gripping her notepad.
When she walked over, my stomach tightened.
“Mrs. Collins?” she asked softly.
“Yes?”
Her lips trembled. “My name is—”
I knew.
